Chapter Two

EVA

I have to be brave.

Strong.

Not only for myself, but for my sister, Ivy, and the other four women living this hell with me.

As we huddle in the confined area, some sob, some stare blankly into space, and one holds her hands together, sending out a muffled prayer.

I don’t think God will help us now . We’re in the hands of the devil.

The ship slows, sending a surge of anxiety through me.

When this all started, I had no idea what the hell was happening. My sister and I had been enjoying a night out in Havana when we were cornered in an alley by masked men with guns. The rest is kind of a blur. Then I found myself waking up in this shipping container, which is the size of a freaking pea, rolling about on what feels like a ship on open water with five other women who are as terrified as me.

We’re all still wearing the clothes we were taken in. I have to admit, I’m completely out of place among the other women here. They’re all dolled up. Even Ivy is in a glittery red dress that clings tightly to her curves and has her entire back on display. It’s sexy as hell, just like the others in their minidresses and tiny skirts. Me? I’m wearing a gray dress that hits midthigh, the shoulders covered in shiny silver beads. There’s nothing adventurous about my outfit, nothing that screams sex appeal.

The women’s faces are covered in black streaks from their mascara, and I am wearing only the slightest hint of makeup. Their hair is perfect, or it was. My dark auburn strands are down and straight. Nothing about me would have caught their attention, and it has me wondering. Maybe because I was with Ivy, they took me too?

The whimpering woman lets out another loud wail, and Ivy clings tighter to me. The ship jolts as if it’s pulling in to dock.

I sit taller and smooth my hand over Ivy’s wavy hair. “Hey, look at me.” Her watering eyes meet mine. “I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I’m not going anywhere without you. We’re a team, sí?” My Spanish comes through thicker when I’m scared.

Even though we live in Cuba, we learned English from a very early age. Our wealthy parents always told us it would come in handy. If only they could see us now.

Ivy wipes a tear from under her eye. “Eva, we don’t know why they took us, where we’re going… what the hell they’re going to do to us.” Her big, brown, doe-like eyes stare back at me.

The praying woman prays louder as footsteps and muffled talking resonate outside the container.

I take a deep breath, gripping her hands. “No, we don’t, but I promise you, Ivy, I’m going to do everything I can to keep us together, even if it means fighting them with every part of me I have. We already lost our parents. I won’t lose you too.”

Heavy thumping pounds on the door making us jump and reverberates through the inside of the container. I stand in front of the five other women in some sort of protective stance. My chest heaves. Ivy grips onto me for dear life, and I hold her behind me. The sobbing and praying continue as I back us all to the rear of the container.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be okay,” I tell them, not for one second believing my words.

The doors fly open, the hinges creaking and moaning.

I’m going to hyperventilate.

A glow from the lamps on the dock lights up the night sky as eight men stand at the doorway, blocking any chance of escape. My body shudders. Their faces are shadowed in darkness, but I don’t mistake the leather vests most of them wear.

Bikers. Why the hell are bikers involved?

“We don’t have a lot of time, so let’s make this easy on all of us. Come forward, don’t fight, and we can move this process along.” His accent is broad. Gruff. American. This man holds authority. I can’t see his face. Even as he steps closer, he’s shrouded in darkness.

“What do you want?” I call out.

I’m not going to roll over and simply let him take us. Not without a damn fight.

He exhales loudly. “Great, a feisty one. Look, chiquita , just do as you’re told. No need to make a scene.”

I stand taller, puffing out my chest. “No. You tell me right now what the hell you want—”

“Or what? You’re backed into a shipping container with nowhere to go. You’re shit out of luck. Do as I say, or I’ll make you. I’d hate to mark that pretty face of yours.”

Ivy clings to me tighter, pulling on my arm a little. I can tell she wants me to stop, to back down, but there’s something about this man that’s pushing all my buttons. So, I step forward. The light from the dock now reflects a little more on his face. His bearded chin shows off his chiseled cheekbones, his hair flopping into his eyes as he stares me down. He appears haunted. The look suits him. I don’t miss the myriad of tattoos lining his arms or the way his body is toned, as if he works out for half the day, every day. This guy is crazy good-looking, but I can’t let that distract me.

“You think I’m scared of you? I’ve had worse come after me and mine. Whatever you have in store for us, it can’t compare to what we’ve already survived.”

The men chuckle as the ringleader shakes his head. “Chiquita, you have no idea what you’re in for. We’re simply the delivery service. Once you leave us, you’re in for a whole other level of torment. Until then, maybe we should prepare you a little for the kind of treatment you’re in for. Boys, get the cargo and move out.”

My muscles tense as the men storm toward us. The other girls scream, but I stand my ground, my arms out in some sort of lame attempt at defending them all.

“Stop!” I yell, mustering all the bravery I can, and surprisingly, they do.

The main guy strides up in front of me, his gaze focused squarely on mine as he stands two steps away. Our eyes lock, and a moment passes between us.

This close, I can see him.

All of him.

He’s tall—more than a head taller than me, even in my heels—with broad shoulders. In this light, I can’t tell where his irises start and his pupils end. His eyes are so dark brown they’re almost black. It’s like looking into the eyes of El Diablo. His face remains expressionless as he peruses my body. The girls whimper behind me, clinging to me for any kind of comfort they can get. The other men hesitate, waiting for his order.

“You want to be their savior, chiquita? You believe standing in front of them is going to stop us from taking you all to the buyers? You can’t fathom how wrong you are.” He lunges at me with outstretched arms, his hands wrapping around my waist. Before I have a second to think, he hoists me over his shoulder.

I let out a scream and feel my grip on Ivy break as she is torn away from me. Shaking and shuddering, I kick my legs, slamming my palms into his back with as much force as I can muster, but it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. He keeps walking as I yell at him. “No. No. My sister… Ivy, Ivy !” I scream. Another strong man yanks her along as she struggles in his grasp. I can’t help it—the dam wall breaks.

Tears I am not used to crying roll down my cheeks. I’m supposed to protect Ivy. I’m supposed to always be by her side. But how can I when I can’t get away from this bruto ?

“Ivy!” I call out again as we reach a black van. Fear cripples me as the man slides me down his body, holding me close. While I know he’s made of flesh and bone, he’s as unmovable as a wall, and his gaze is just as cold. Every part of me shakes as he stares into my eyes.

“Don’t worry, chiquita, this will all be over soon.”

Is he going to kill me?

Frantically, I pull and thrash, trying to escape.

Ivy’s being taken to another black van, and I move to run to her, but the man grips my biceps, holding me in place.

“Uh-uh, you’re not going anywhere. Say goodbye.”

More than anything, I want him to let Ivy and me go, so I do the only thing I can think of—I plead. “You don’t have to do this. Please. Let my sister and I go. We’ll go back to Cuba. You’ll never see us again. There will be no trouble.”

He purses his lips. “Can’t do that, chiquita. If I don’t deliver six packages, I don’t get paid. I’m running a business. You understand.”

“So, what? I’m nothing but money to you?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing personal. I didn’t pick you off the street, the buyer did. I’m just the delivery guy.”

He says it so matter-of-fact that anger rushes through me like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I wrench one hand from his grasp and slam it across his cheek, pushing his head to the side. The sting reverberates through my palm as he turns back, glaring at me.

“You really are a firecracker, aren’t you? While I’ve enjoyed our time together… more than I was expecting… I really need to get you in this van.”

“ Que te la pique un pollo ,” I say, scowling at him with nothing but loathing, and I mean it. I really do hope a chicken pecks his penis.

The corner of his lips turns up, and his smirk sends shivers down my spine. I spit at his feet, causing him to chuckle.

“Have it your way, chiquita . ”

So strong I can’t fight him, he holds my biceps firmly and spins me around. Fear cripples me as I peer over to the van where Ivy is being loaded inside. “Ivy!” I call out to her. “Please… please don’t take my sister. She’s everything I have. Please. I beg you.”

The brute yanks open the back of the van and tries to push me inside. My hands grip the edges, but they slip with the humidity in the air. “My sister can come with me. Please. Please don’t split us up.”

“Get in the van, chiquita . ” His voice is deep, annoyed. He shoves me forward. I let out a small squeal and fall onto the van’s metal checker plate floor. He’s on me in a second, drawing my hands together. Clenching my teeth, I fight him with everything I have, but he’s too strong. He ties my wrists with cable ties. “You’re nothing but a bastardo.”

He tilts his head. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

As he grabs something beside me, I furrow my brow, but I’m fighting a losing battle. I fought as hard as I could, and it wasn’t enough. Whoever this guy is, I thought I might have gotten through to him, but I’ve gotten nowhere.

Suddenly, his hand sweeps out in front of my face, and a white rag covers my mouth, held tight against me. I shake my head but can’t dislodge his grasp. It smells of grass clippings, and I can’t get enough air—my head spins. Screw this puta. I won’t be silenced. He wants to kidnap me? I won’t make it easy on him.

My eyes widen as I struggle harder against him, fighting to shake the asshole off, to breathe against the cloth that he only holds firmer against me. Black spots dance in my vision, darkness creeping into the edges of my sight. Hijo de puta. The motherfucker’s not trying to silence me. He’s…

“ Cálmate , Eva. I’ve got you.”

He knows my name? And how to say take it easy in Spanish?

A strong hand behind my neck cradles my head as I fall back onto the van’s floor. My mind floats somewhere beyond my body, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t feel myself or find my way back. He leans over me, his face lingering over mine. My gaze swims, unable to focus on him.

With one last desperate gasp for air, my body stops fighting.

I have nowhere left to run.

No ability to fight.

Held in the cold embrace of darkness, his eyes are the last thing I see as everything goes black.